The Path to Recovery
by Amaryllis3121
Summary: Sequel to 'Letting Go'- Vince has become more broken than Howard, the man who killed himself, but that doesn't mean that Howard is all better. As tensions rise between them, they have to figure out a new way of co-existing before they lose each other forever... again. Howince, but not the fluffy kind.
1. Chapter 1

**So here it is at last! The sequel to Letting Go!**

**For explanations and apologies for my absence, please see Chapter Three of 'The Luxury Boosh'.**

**It won't make a whole lot of sense if you don't read 'Letting Go' first, although you could give it a bash- it's fairly easy to pick up what's happened. Really would reccomend reading 'Letting Go' anyway though, 'cause it sets the scene for this nicely (obviously).**

**So I'm actually pretty proud of this. Not in a sort of 'best bit of writing ever' kind of way. Because obviously it isn't. In fact, I haven't even proof-read it. But it has a nice feel to it. I really got lost in the narrative writing this. I mean, it was like I was watching it happen and writing notes about it. The first bit is kind of sketchy, I'll admit, 'cause I was working fast to get the chapter up, but somewhere in the middle (right after I went out the back to get stoned with my brother I expect) I really got into it.**

**This story has a more grown-up feel to it. Because to me, Vince has lost his innocence, he's grown up. And I hope that came through in the writing, because Vince and Howard can't have gone through all that with no character development.**

**Unfortunately, because of how I chose to finish 'Letting Go', this story is going a little dark. Like I said, a bit more grown-up.**

**Well, I'm afraid I've rather built it up too much now. So please, lower expectations about ten notches, and let's begin!**

* * *

Vince crossed the shop, trying to hold himself upright in spite of the buzzing in his head. He felt sick and dizzy, but Howard's watchful eye was on him and so he forced his brightest smile as he sat in his favourite chair.

"Hello, Vince."

"Alright?"

"What took you so long?"

Howard's voice was full of suspicion. Vince knew what he expected him to have done- spent half the morning in the bathroom throwing up the cereal he had been served for breakfast. That wasn't strictly true. Vince _had_ spent all morning in the bathroom, but he had simply been touching up his make-up so the circles under his eyes didn't show. He didn't have anything to throw up- the cereal had simply gone down the sink.

It had been two days since Howard's return from the afterlife. So far, it had only been Vince who seemed traumatised by the whole affair. In fact, Howard was doing well, due in part to Naboo creating an anti-depressant potion and to Vince's mental state. Having someone to take care of would keep him out of his own head, Naboo had explained, and that was why he wasn't feeling so down. But Vince could no longer tell when someone was being truthful with him and when they were lying to make him feel better.

That morning on Howard's first day back had changed the balance of the household. They had sat on the bathroom floor until well into the afternoon, talking and being completely open with each other for the first time in a long time. For a while, they were equals- no longer the man-child and his carer, not the old jazzy freak and the popular young socialite, but two troubled, broken men, bearing their souls to each other.

When they had finished, Howard had been the first to rise, offering a hand to help Vince to his feet. They had gone into the front room, awkwardly sat down to watch television and no more had been said all day. But from then onwards, there was a watchfulness about Howard. He was keeping his eye on Vince, making sure the younger man was alright. And that was starting to grate on him.

On the second day, Howard let Vince off from eating. Vince avoided him as much as possible, embarrassed and ashamed. It was like they were on a short holiday, away from the stresses of the real world, except Vince could no longer face his friend. But now they were on day three and life was going back to normal (or some semblance of it) and there was no hiding from reality. Vince had been issued with a bowl of cereal that morning to get him 'back on track', with strict instructions to wait for the milk to soak in so it was soggy. But Vince had no intention of swallowing cold, plain Cornflakes only to have his hopes that they wouldn't come straight back up dashed, and so he had washed them down the sink the moment Howard had left to open the shop. After much stalling and tweaking of his appearance to make himself look less pathetic, Vince had forced himself to descend the stairs and face things head-on.

Vince realised a long silence had passed and Howard was still staring expectantly at him. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he tried to remember the question.

"Just fixing myself up, you know how it is," he said at last, fluffing up his hair and trying to look vain. Howard's gaze didn't waver.

"Did you have your breakfast?"

"Yeah, of course," Vince lied smoothly.

"And...?" Howard prompted.

"Everything's fine." Then Vince thought that the statement would probably be a cause for some joy, so he grinned. "It's stayed down, I think."

This seemed to ease Howard's mind and Vince felt a stab of guilt when a small smile appeared underneath the moustache.

"Good. Hopefully, we'll have the same luck with lunch, eh?"

Vince's smile was decidedly weaker this time. "Yeah," he agreed lamely.

Lunch. It hadn't even crossed his mind that in a few short hours, he would be forced to munch through a sandwich or something of the kind with Howard's sharp eyes upon him. More misery. He would have to think of a way out.

Was this how it was going to be until he died of starvation? Dodging meals for fear of that awful sickness? Because he couldn't live like that- not for anything. Not even for the sake of Howard. But how could he save himself when he was so terrified? What else could he do? There wasn't a way out- not from where he was standing.

Before he realised it, tears were running down his cheeks. Howard's features softened and Vince had to turn away, dragging his sleeve over his eyes.

Neither man spoke. The silence pressed against Vince's eardrums, the pounding of his heart so loud Howard must have been able to hear it on the other side of the shop. He was so afraid of the man's opinion- worried that he might decide Vince wasn't worth it, petrified that he might decide to sever his tie with life for good. It hurt so much the first time, when Vince was still whole. How would he cope now?

And then there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned into Howard's chest, wrapping his arms around him, clinging to him in case he changed his mind and tried to walk away.

It was at times like this that Howard dropped all physical boundaries and became human for a few moments. Long enough for Vince to know he was loved, but to learn that it didn't mean he was special. Only one person would be special enough to cross the line permanently and Vince knew it wouldn't be him. That was why they were still just friends. He had realised that two days ago, on that first morning.

But Vince didn't really mind. He just wanted Howard, no matter what place he took in his life. Best friend, boyfriend, there was no difference other than sex, and Vince could get that anywhere he wanted. He could go without, if need be. But the thing he couldn't go without was Howard, and he had learned that the hard way.

"What's up, Little Man?" Howard asked gently. Vince didn't have an answer. How could he summarise his thoughts without sounding completely off the rails?

"I don't know," he said helplessly. Then added, truthfully, "Just scared."

"What about?"

Vince shook his head and pulled away, silenced by the lump in his throat. He inhaled deeply, trying to control himself.

"I need a minute."

On shaky legs he rose and stumbled awkwardly past the Northerner, ignoring the way his head spun when he walked. He climbed the stairs slowly and deliberately, clinging onto the banister for dear life. Then, finally, he reached the flat and collapsed onto the sofa as black dots swam before his eyes. He was shaking beyond belief, his heart was racing, his legs felt like lead. He felt like he had climbed Everest, not struggled up fourteen steps. His body was protesting against him, waging a war against the starvation he had forced upon it. His emotions were everywhere, swirling around in his head, fighting powerfully against each other.

He had lost control. He was way out of his depth.

* * *

**Hmm, yes, that will do.**

**And that's just the opening chapter- a mere taster of things to come!**

**If I randomly vanish again before I can update, have no fear! I will return eventually, every time. I promise.**

**Also, I know exactly how this ends and I couldn't be more excited. But I'm not telling YOU, ha ha!**

**No, seriously, I'm so excited for the end of this. Really. I mean, the bits in between are cool and all that, and I'm kind of impressed with how this story is going to progress (I have it more or less planned out), but the ending is a scenario I've been toying with for years in all kinds of stories that I've written, but it's never quite made it in because I either abandoned the story or decided it wasn't right. But it seems to fit perfectly with this and I love it, so hooray (and all that)!**

**Uh, so please review! No, no, I insist. Go on, just a couple of words? Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello :). My, my I did get lovely reviews, eh? Unfortunately, I can't reply to them as my internet currently wont let me do anything helpful :/. In the next chapter, however, I promise I shall reply to them :). I'm so grateful all the same, and thank you :).**

**I'm also changing the summary, as this will now be somewhat Howincey, but hopefully a new take on the pairing :).**

**Enjoy :D.**

* * *

Vince thought it wouldn't be long before Howard came to talk to him, but it turned out he was wrong. Nearly two hours passed before the older man climbed the stairs and crossed awkwardly to the sofa.

"Everything alright now?" he asked. Vince nodded. "Ready for lunch?"

The younger man thought quickly. "You know what? I probably shouldn't risk it. I'm starting to feel a bit iffy..."

Howard nodded, clearly eager not to upset Vince again.

"Alright." He sat down. "What are you watching?"

"Jeremy Kyle."

"Not really your cup of tea, is it?"

Vince shrugged, eyes fixated on the screen.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seem a bit... you know."

"I'm fine."

They sat in silence a few moments, then Vince sighed and glanced at his friend.

"Go on then."

"What?"

"You're dying to talk to me about something."

It was Howard's turn to sigh. "I'll cut to it, shall I? I'm just getting the feeling there's something you're not telling me, Vince."

"Do I have to share everything with you?"

The words held some emotion that surprised even Vince. Once upon a time, there would be no need for such a question. Of course he would share everything with Howard, without even hesitating. But times had changed and his problems were so much deeper than the girl who'd slapped him in the pub or the shoes that had broken during a wild rave.

"No, of course not," Howard responded delicately. "I just think it might help to get it off your chest, hmm?"

"Look, Howard, you don't want to know."

"Nothing you could possibly say would make me think any differently of you."

Vince doubted that.

He wanted to explain, he really did, but his hands were tied. He wanted the safety and support that came with confiding in Howard. Unfortunately, some things were just too big and risky to say out loud.

This kind of situation had become common over the last two days. Howard would constantly approach Vince, trying to probe him for information. But Vince wouldn't- couldn't- yield, and this was partly why he dreaded their interactions. Everything had changed. Things would never be the same again, and that thought gave Vince a sort of miserable ache. He was happy to have Howard back, of course, but irreparable damage had been done and all Vince found himself yearning for was the simpler times when he was ignorant of this kind of hurt.

With no idea what to say, Vince chose not to reply, staring down at his hands instead. He sighed again, with no other means to communicate his frustration to Howard.

The older man wasn't deterred.

"What are you thinking?"

Vince's head jerked back up again.

"That's a relationship question," he said sharply.

"Is it?" Howard was surprised, naturally. After all, how would he know?

"Yeah. Girlfriends ask me that all the time..." He trailed off. Did it matter? The line between friendship and relationship was pretty blurry most of the time as far as Howard and Vince were concerned and it had never made a difference before. But now it did, somehow. The only conclusion Vince could draw reverberated around in his head, quickening his pulse, weighing down on his chest...

"Sorry, I won't ask next time," Howard said, interrupting Vince's internal panic.

"No, no, it's fine," Vince responded vaguely, half-lost to his thoughts. There was a few seconds of silence, and then he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "We've gone wrong, haven't we?" he blurted out, sounding tired and small.

Howard looked at him. His hand twitched as though he was about to reach out, but then thought better of it.

"How so?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know." He wished he hadn't spoken. "I suppose... things used to be easy."

"They still could be. You keep shutting me out, Vince."

Vince looked back at the television screen.

"So do you," he muttered.

All of a sudden, Howard grew frosty.

"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to," he said, rising. "I'm going back to work."

"What about your lunch?"

"I'm not hungry."

Vince watched as he descended the stairs, regretful. He wished he had told him everything. He wanted to, so badly, but his feelings simply couldn't be put into words. His entire world was topsy-turvy, turned on its head, and there was nothing he needed more than to be able to cry on the older man's shoulder. But he was such a big part of the problem. And then there would be repercussions too, if Vince chose to confide in him- repercussions he couldn't bear to consider.

He didn't have any choice but to push the man he had fought for away. And it really hurt, because eventually they would drift apart and Howard would be lost all over again. But there was no longer anything to hold on to, nothing to keep them together. For such a long time, they had been two magnets- Vince South, Howard North. Opposites attract; they fitted together nicely. But now they were in the same boat, North and North, and that meant they could do only one thing- repel each other.

Whatever bonds that had tied Vince Noir and Howard Moon together for so long had finally been severed. Now, it was only a matter of time before they were torn apart, and it seemed Vince was the only one who could see it. Which meant he was the only one who could stop it.

* * *

**I'm rather proud of that extended metaphor at the end xD.**

**I hope you enjoyed. I also have a question (I shall ask it in my other fic too, when I update in a sec). I've become rather attached to a charming little show called The IT Crowd (I'm sure you've heard of it ;)). How would people feel about a fic for that? :).**

**Right, I've got to go 'cause the internet might mess up any second and I want to get the next chapter of Luxury Boosh up :).**

**Please review! :D.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello!**

**I'm so sorry about slow updates, but my internet situation is a bit wobbly, to say the least. I have to lug my laptop to my dad's every time I want to go online, but when I'm there ninety percent of my time is being taken up by college work (urgh) or my siblings (damn them!). Still, I have loads of this story written out in full now so when I can, I'll update, I promise :D.**

**So I want to say that the whole Vince-not-eating-but-somehow-still-being-basically-fine thing is getting to me. It's kind of unrealistic I suppose, but I've taken some liberties to make it work with the story.**

**I also want to say that this story is going to move quite slowly, as there isn't a whole load of plot involved. I might have said that before, but I can't remember, so I've said it again xD. But I'm really enjoying writing this and experimenting with character development as I've not really thought much about that kind of thing before. I'm hoping to move on to writing a book soon, something I gave up on 'cause I was too inexperienced, so this is turning into my practise piece I think.**

**Well... yeah... just enjoy, eh? :D.**

* * *

At half-past three, Naboo returned from his meeting of the Shaman Council, Bollo trailing behind him. After muttering a quick hello, he disappeared into his room. Vince immediately bounced up, having been waiting for him, and followed him down the hallway, knocking at his door.

"Oi, Naboo? Can I have a word?" he asked. Immediately, the door swung inward. Vince entered, to find that neither the shaman or his familiar had opened it. "Nice trick," he complimented.

"Cheers. I got it from Saboo- had to trade my hair-colouring powers for it, but it was worth it. So what do you want?"

"I've got a problem."

"For the last time- men don't ovulate. You're not on your period."

Vince almost laughed, but he couldn't quite muster it up. Naboo was referring to an incident a couple of months before, in which Vince had become convinced he might be 'coming on' due to stomach cramps, mood swings and an intense craving for chocolate. All the memory served to do, however, was remind him of how happily naïve he had been.

"Naboo, I'm serious. I need your help."

The shaman eyed him, then nodded. "Alright, sit down."

Vince took a seat on the edge of the bed, not a moment too soon as his head began to swim from the surge of energy it took to make it from the front room.

"So what's the problem?"

"Uh, well, it's about me and Howard..."

"As usual."

"Yeah. Well, it's more about me, really, but he's a part of it, so..."

"Am I supposed to guess what the problem is or are you going to tell me?"

"Right, sorry." Vince paused, deliberating over his approach. "Since Howard's come back, things haven't been right," he said slowly. "It's like there's this big barrier between us. We used to be able to talk about anything. Now, it's really hard just to hold a normal conversation."

"That's normal, Vince. You've both been through a lot."

"No, it's not. It's not right! It's me, I'm the problem. I'm all messed up, but I can't tell him about it. I can't talk to him like I used to. I'm the one who put the barrier up, and I'm... I'm scared that I'm going to lose him, one way or another!" He paused, taking a deep breath, then continued in a calmer tone. "I'm stuck- I can't just open up to him, because I might drive him away. You know how he is. And ever since I learned what his mental state's really like... I don't want to tip the balance any more. But if I don't open up... Things are tense between us already. Eventually I'm going to drive him away anyway."

His last words were dejected, helpless. A furry hand gripped his shoulder and Vince glanced up to give Bollo a small half-smile in acknowledgement.

"First of all, you need to relax, Vince," Naboo advised. "Getting all worked up won't help anything. You'll just make yourself ill."

"More ill."

"Stop being ridiculous. You're not ill. You just need some time to sort your head out." He looked thoughtful. "I'd suggest you talk your issues out with Howard, but you two are hopeless, so that's not an option."

"But we did. The morning after he came back, we talked over everything- all the problems we had. We told each other exactly how we felt."

"What I'm saying is that there must be something at the root of the shift in your friendship. You need to get to the bottom of it before you can even think about trying to fix it."

"It's me. I'm the problem. I told you."

"Don't be so self-absorbed," Naboo scolded. "Howard's attitude towards you has changed, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So there must be something on both sides. Something that's stopping you two going back to normal."

"How am I meant to work out what it is?"

"Well it's obviously something that surfaced after he died. Just have a think about it."

Vince nodded. "Alright, I will. Cheers, Naboolio." He stood up to go. When he was half way to the door, Naboo spoke again.

"Oh, Vince?"

Vince turned.

"Yeah?"

"Stop wasting food and just try and eat, for God's sake."

"How'd you know?"

"Sink's clogged, you ball-bag."

Vince forced a smile and left, moving through the flat to reclaim his place on the sofa. He ran Naboo's advice through his mind again and again, but after a while his head went all fuzzy and he couldn't think straight so he leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew there was a weight next to him on the sofa. He jerked upright, finding Howard seated next to him.

"Howard? What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock. I've just shut the shop."

"Urgh."

Vince raised a tired arm to rub his bleary eyes. When he lowered it, he found Howard staring at him, scrutinising him intently.

"I'm sorry I snapped before, Vince," he apologised. "I'm... I'm adjusting, for want of a better word. To the new you."

Vince nodded. "Yeah, I'm adjusting too, I suppose." He sighed, cocking his head as he looked at the older man. "I suppose I feel like there's all this pressure on me to get better so we can be like we used to."

"Vince," Howard sighed. He sounded exasperated, but his expression conveyed sympathy. Awkwardly, he stretched an arm over the back of the sofa. "Come here."

Vince scooted along the sofa gratefully, curling into Howard's side. Somehow, the jazz maverick always knew when he needed comfort. It was an instinct, a sixth sense he seemed to possess. He felt Howard's muscles tense as he leant his head against his shoulder, but after a moment he relaxed as he adjusted to the contact.

"We don't _need_ to go back to how we were," Howard said wisely. "Look where that got us, eh? It's all about finding balance. We need to meet somewhere in the middle."

"You were unhappy," Vince agreed. "But I _was _happy. And now I'm _un_happy." He looked up at his friend. "Are you happy now, Howard?"

Howard shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. For a moment, Vince thought he wouldn't answer. Then, at last, he spoke.

"I don't know, Vince," he said evenly. "I'm better than I was, which is a start. But I'm not there yet."

Vince looked away.

"Is it me?" he asked quietly. "I'm dragging you down, aren't I?"

Howard gave Vince's hair a soothing stroke as he shushed him.

"Don't be daft."

There was silence. All Vince could hear was Howard's steady breathing as his own words stuck in his throat. A few short months ago, this would be the perfect moment- the ideal scenario in Vince's small world. But now it was marred by a deep sense of dissatisfaction that Vince could feel tearing at his insides. His throat felt thick and tight as he searched for something- anything- to say, but instead he found himself shying away from the intimacy. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his hand came up to meet with Howard's and he moved the arm that now encased him, wriggling away and coming to rest on the opposite end of the sofa.

Their hands lay between them, fingers entwined, and Vince rubbed his thumb against Howard's, gaining some kind of strange comfort from this simple action. Howard barely moved during this, allowing Vince to manipulate him but not responding, a sort of compromise being formed between the two men.

Finally, Vince knew. He understood the force that set so much distance between them and yet bound them so completely to each other. He realised what made up so much of their codependency. It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. He had never dismissed it, never suppressed it, but never quite acknowledged it. Perhaps it was because their time apart had strengthened it or maybe it was because he had been on the lookout for it, but now Vince saw it so fully he knew he could never forget it.

His hand tightened in Howard's as a wave of intense, inexpressible emotion engulfed him. Half-formed words died in his throat, unshed tears welled in his eyes and all of a sudden his friend seemed a million miles away, lost all over again, cold and unreachable. There was a ringing in his ears, a relentless pressure at the back of his head. The room seemed too bright, yet too blurred. His breathing quickened, his pulse raced, thoughts whizzed through his mind at a million miles an hour.

Vince found his feet, standing on legs that didn't want to support him. He didn't know where he was going- just that he had to get away, to think. The room was suddenly stifling, far too small, too enclosed. He needed to get out.

His grip slackened and as Howard's hand fell away, so did his anchor. He heard the Northerner speak his name, but the darkness was already closing in and suddenly he was hollow, weightless, falling through nothingness.

He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * *

**The ending was rushed. It just was. I'm sorry.**

**It just looked really short so I added in the whole conversation with Howard to flesh it out some more. But I wanted to finish it tonight so I did it really quickly. But then I spent all evening editing it so it would fit in with the next chapter anyway, so... Freaking useless. Might as well have spent more time writing it really. But never mind, it is what it is.**

**POLL TIME.**

**I've reached a point in writing where I can leave things as I planned them or veer off onto a completely different course. So:**

**Do you want things to get worse for Vince in an unrealistic display of how unfair life could be? Or**

**Do you want him to remain on a level course, maybe even get better?**

**Now, I know you're all angst monsters, so I think I can guess which one you'd go for. But I thought I'd ask, because I don't want to start writing even more unlikely events- that obviously lead to new levels of angst- without first consulting my dear readers :D.**

**On a personal note ('cause we all know I treat my author's notes like a blog), I now officially want to be a comedian/comedy actress/Miranda Hart Jr. (I bloody love her!). I've started composing some material for stand up, although I'm finding it quite tricky to settle on a style, and I desperately want to write a sitcom, but no ideas are forthcoming (sad face :(). It's not really just a case of 'oh, that job would be cool' though. It's more a case of 'no, this has to be my future otherwise what's the point of anything?' which is kind of scary :L.**

**Does anybody else have a thing like that? Something they feel like they absolutely HAVE to do with their life? 'Cause I think it's kind of weird, personally. You know- a crazy person thing xD.**

**This would be the point when I would reply to reviews. And yet... I CAN'T VIEW THE PAGE. I don't know why. It's not fair. It's simply NOT FAIR. I can't apologise enough. Please, please know that I do appreciate any and all feedback so much I can't even describe. It makes me grin like a fool just knowing people are reading this bollocks! I bleeding love it! :D.**

**I'm going to wrap this up now, but I'd love to hear from you. Please drop me a review and next time I SWEAR I'll reply, absolutely, hand on heart, I'm so sorry that my dad's internet is so terrible, please don't be upset, I honestly love chatting to my readers and I so would if I could.**

**I'm a talkative brat, so I'm going to go now before you get too bored of me- don't hesitate to REVIEW :D.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm ba-ack :).**

**So... Yeah. I have a dongle now (oo-er!) so hopefully updates will be fairly regular as I have an actual internet connection that actually works!**

**I like Naboo. So he is, naturally, going to be very wise and generally excellent throughout this story :D.**

**This is a chapter of Nabooey goodness (geddit? Gooey, Nabooey? Fine, suit yourself. I'll just take my clever puns elsewhere, shall I?).**

**I don't know what else to say. It's five in the morning, I have college in a couple of hours, but whatever, let's just get on with it, eh?**

* * *

The next thing Vince knew, he was on Naboo's bed.

His head swam as he sat up to find himself faced with the tiny shaman. An involuntary groan escaped his lips.

"Fucking hell," he moaned. "I knew this would happen eventually."

"We all did," Naboo responded grimly. "Why do you think we've been trying to get you to eat, you dick?"

"How long was I out?"

"A minute or two. Just long enough for Bollo to get you in here. Drink this."

A glass was pressed into his shaking hands. Vince looked at it suspiciously for a moment, then took a cautious sip. It tasted like salt water, but a moment later he felt strength course through his weakened limbs so he took another, longer drink.

"Where's Howard?"

"Bollo's making him a cup of tea. He's in a right tizzy out there."

A ghost of a smile graced Vince's lips. "He would be."

"This isn't funny, Vince," Naboo snapped irritably. "You're going to kill yourself if you carry on."

"Keep your turban on," he mumbled, shamefacedly. "D'you think I'm doing this for a laugh?"

"No!" Naboo's scowl deepened. "I just don't think you're trying to get better."

"Of course I am!"

"Then you're not trying hard enough!"

Vince bit back a retort, draining the rest of the glass in one. Then he stared at the bottom thoughtfully, trying to decide whether or not to open up to the shaman. On one hand, he had always proved a reliable and surprisingly wise friend. On the other hand, he was _Naboo_.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, Vince spoke up.

"I figured it out."

"What?"

"The problem with me and Howard. The thing that's changed."

"So? What is it?"

Vince's mouth opened and closed again. He swallowed forcefully, determined to spit the words out. As he spoke, they sounded foreign and wrong somehow, like he had crossed a line that should never be crossed. Like he had broken some unspoken taboo.

"I... I _love_ him."

Naboo nodded thoughtfully. "I thought so."

Vince's gaze snapped up.

"Then why didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"It's one of those things you have to figure out for yourself," he shrugged. Then he paused. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know. I don't feel any differently towards him, I suppose. It's just always been there."

"How does he make you feel?"

Vince hesitated. He felt a heat creep into his cheeks.

"Safe. Really safe. It's like... It's like home is wherever Howard is. I mean, you saw me without him. I'm just a mess, really, and all because he was gone for a few weeks."

Naboo stirred a small cauldron that rested in the corner. It began to give off a thick green smoke, but he didn't seem to notice as he gave Vince a hard stare.

"What else?"

"I don't know," Vince admitted. "I feel better when he's around. Well, not so much these days, but- you know- before..." he tailed off, then cleared his throat. "But I don't... _want_ him in that way," he added awkwardly. "At least, not properly. There used to be moments, but I was usually in the middle of a dry spell and I just put it down to frustration..."

The heat became a full-on flush as Vince realised he should have held his tongue. He risked a glance at Naboo, who was wearing a disgusted expression.

"I don't want _all_ the details! Now I won't sleep tonight!"

"Sorry."

Naboo regained his composure and moved to sit at the foot of the bed.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"Yeah."

"I think you're a prick."

"Oh, cheers."

"It's been under your nose this whole time, Vince! I was this close to dosing your tea with love potion just to get things moving!"

He held up a thumb and forefinger. Vince shook his head.

"I don't understand though. Why is it getting in the way now? It's never been a problem before."

"'Cause you've changed."

"What's that got to do with it?"

Naboo sighed exasperatedly. "You're a lot different. You've lost your swagger."

"So? You don't have to rub it in."

"You're more vulnerable, Vince. And Howard's perception of you has changed, so the way he reacts to you has changed. But he's changed too, just a little bit. You're two different people, meeting for the first time. Things are bound to be rocky to start with."

"I didn't follow that."

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Your experience has altered you both. You're both a bit different. Things aren't going to be like they used to because you've both got a new outlook. You interact with each other differently."

"Okay, I think I get it. So that's why Howard's letting me cuddle up to him now?"

Naboo winced. "I don't want to think about it. But yes. He's less afraid to get close to you because you won't mock him like you used to."

The directness of the statement struck Vince. A sense of guilt welled in his gut.

"Was I that bad?" he asked.

"Not really, but Howard's an over-sensitive ball-bag. You know what he's like. But now you're more vulnerable than him, he feels safe enough to let his defences down."

Vince felt crushed. "So if I sort myself out, he'll go back to how he was, and then we're back to square one?"

Naboo's hand reached out and patted Vince's leg. "Not quite. You just have to find a balance between this Vince and the old Vince. A balance that makes you both happy."

"That's basically what Howard said."

"Then he's wise, for a jazz freak."

Vince looked down at the comforting hand on his leg and grinned.

"You know, Naboo, you've changed too."

The hand was withdrawn, but Naboo's expression was defiant.

"So?"

"Calm down, I'm just saying! Anyway, I prefer the new Naboo."

"Shut up."

"He's cuddlier."

"Alright, get out of my room."

"All kind and caring."

"Vince..."

"He makes you feel all fuzzy inside."

"I'll fetch Bollo."

"Alright, sorry! Just tell me what I'm supposed to do about it."

"I can't give you all the answers, Vince," Naboo sighed. "But if you do love him, it's not going to go away. You live together and work together. You can't avoid him."

"I can't tell him. It'll scare him off."

"I think you underestimate him. He's put up with you for this long. He must be fond of you."

Vince smiled. "Yeah. Cheers, Naboo."

He placed the empty glass on the floor and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Then he hesitated.

"We never thank you properly," he said quietly, "but you've really helped us out over the years."

"Don't mention it," Naboo said. "Seriously. I've got a reputation to protect. I can't have everyone thinking I spend my free time bailing you dicks out of trouble."

Vince smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Well thank you anyway. You're a good mate, Naboo."

Then, without another word, he left the room.

* * *

**Did you enjoy that? I did. My favourite chapter so far. Don't know why. I think I'm developing a soft spot for Naboo. Odd, 'cause he never really had a whole lot of significance for me before, although I do find him fairly hilarous.**

**I find it odd that there are no Vince/Naboo pairings. They're brothers in real life, so it's pretty sick if you think about it, but fans are crazy aren't they? Aren't they? Not you, dear readers, but other fans? Maybe? A bit? I don't ship, by the way- Vince/Howard is the only 'Boosh pairing I ship. And Tony Harrison and Saboo, just because... well- for want of a better word- LOL!**

**I stumbled upon Fred/George twincest in the Harry Potter section before. SCARRED. FOR. LIFE.**

**And there's an excellent story about Hogwarts/Giant Squid. No joke. It was just mind-blowing. Completely insane but really well-written. SPOILER ALERT- they had sex. Again, no joke.**

**ALSO, I saw The Hobbit yesterday. Oh my God, I have never seen a more perfect or beautiful film. Well, maybe The Dark Knight or Iron Man, but other than that? Absolutely my favourite film of the year. Whole new level of respect for Martin Freeman. He is just... wonderous! First Sherlock, now this! And other stuff before those that I have seen parts of that were pretty damn good.**

**Fans of Sherlock and The Hobbit- John/Bilbo? I ship, do you? ;).**

**OKAY, THE LONG AWAITED REVIEW REPLIES HAVE ARRIVED!**

**AlKiMi- How can you abandon the 'Boosh?! :O. I mean, I kind of do that too, flit from fandom to fandom, but this is just the loveliest fandom I've joined and I'm simply stuck here- I can't bring myself to leave it behind! And I was enjoying your stories and all! Hitched had Old Gregg in it (my favourite!) and The Slow Descent Into Madness had me on the edge of my proverbial seat! Glad you came back for me though, how kind :D.**

**Chrissy-Kookla- Hello, thank you for reviewing! It's always nice to begin with a good bit of angst, don't you think? I'm glad you enjoyed it- I had loads of fun writing that, in a twisted way! :D.**

**BatsNotDogs- Hey, nice to see you back! Yeah, Luxury Boosh is kind of on the back burner right now, but new chapters will be headed out as soon as inspiration strikes, so keep your eye out! I believe it was you who first enquired into whether Letting Go would be Howince (forgive me if I'm wrong) but yeah, if it WAS you, you now have a lovely little Howince angst story to read. Exciting, eh? :P.**

**camdendollybird- Thanks for reviewing! I'm incredibly glad to hear you enjoyed, and hopefully my story will stay up to scratch :). I know, I feel sorry for them too, but as I officially own this version of the pair, things will definitely be getting worse before they get better :P. Cruel? Maybe, but that's just how I roll ;).**

**Dr. - Angsty pangsty- what a lovely phrase :D. I shall angst it up then, for all I'm worth :D. So yeah, stay tuned and hopefully things will become much more interesting :). Thanks for the review!**

**Now, guys, I must say, as absolutely, completely and totally grateful that I am for the reviews I'm recieving, I kind of feel like this story isn't living up to expectations. Is there a reason for this? Am I, in fact, writing a rubbish sequel? 'Cause I had an idea to mould this into a trilogy with Naboo being the centerpiece of the final part, but if it's dead before it's begun, I need to know so I can wrap this up and move onto a new idea I have.**

**Anyways, I must go now so all that's left is to beg you to review! Bye-bye for now :D.**


	5. Chapter 5

**SORRY. SORRY, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY. Sorry for where I have taken this chapter. Basically, the ending wasn't planned, but I had space to extend it without damaging the plot too much, and it kind of felt right. You'll understand when you read it. Just... just trust me a bit, 'kay? The general plotline does seem to be sliding in and out of focus right now. It's just messy writing really, because there are a million ways I could take this and they all sort of bleed through a bit and invade my mind space while I'm trying to structure everything.**

**I've been watching all the 'Boosh again, 'cause it's been a while. I love the 'Boosh, but I'd kind of forgotten because the only characters that seemed to exist in my head were these that I have written. I'm alright again now though, I can remember how they're supposed to be and hopefully that'll reflect in future chapters. Not this, or the next, 'cause I wrote them well ages ago :P.**

**This story might end up quite long, 'cause I have loads to fit in. I'd anticipated a neat ten chapters- short and sweet. Then it escalated to twenty and now it may be more. Depends how long interest remains, because I think I'm stretching this weak plotline far too far- it's too much xD.**

**Enough chatter now, on with the story!**

* * *

It was dark. There were only two of them- him, and another figure- pale, glowing, laid out on a table of black velvet. It was no shock; he knew this would happen. He _allowed_ this to happen.

Two steps took him to the centre of the room. Another brought him to the body. His fingers cast a shadow over the face as he reached out to trail the jaw, although there was no source of light to create such a phenomenon. He trembled slightly, imperceptibly, although it didn't matter. The eyes were closed. They would never open again.

He was crying. It was more of a guess than an observation. He couldn't actually feel anything, couldn't pinpoint the point at which it had begun, but his face was wet and his vision blurred. The skin beneath his fingers was cold to the touch, but soft, and it yielded as he probed, working gently across the face. He created a trail, tracing the lines, the wrinkles. The thin crinkles where the laughter lines had once been. The furrows on a brow that would never frown again.

And then he found the lips. They fell open as his digits caressed the delicate skin. His thumb trailed along the dry, pink flesh and a fire rose inside, burning, choking, driving him down, closer, closer, until he could brush his own lips against them. Blood pounded in his ears but beyond that something roared, bursting into existence, something with no physical presence. A noise, getting louder, drowning out the beating of his heart.

He kissed in earnest, prickled by coarse hairs against his top lip, tears dripping from his face, the water smearing, crushed between life and death- living skin and dead flesh. The world around him spun, darkness- nothingness- rose, whirled, making him sick, but he didn't pause. There was no need for breath any more. He was falling, floating, drowning. Both lost and found. Dead and yet never so alive.

Flames leaped from nowhere, flat and somehow clumsy, but hot- hotter than anything he had ever experienced. It took a moment to realise that he was the source. Light burst from his chest and he was burning. Elation turned to anguish as he cried out, screamed, smoke pouring from his mouth, curling up to blind him, dragging him back, forcing itself up his nose, into his eyes. The body was gone, there was nothing beneath his fingers as he was pulled backwards by some unseen force, struggling but helpless.

It was black, too black. The dark pressed at his eyes, the noise grew in his ears until he could no longer take it. It hurt, everything hurt, but the flames had gone. He was utterly alone, deafened, blind, unable to find his way.

Howard. Howard had gone.

Vince was woken by his own screaming, tangled in his covers. He struggled a moment, still lost in his dream world, but as his eyes acclimatised to the darkness, his cries subsided into noisy, unstoppable sobs that tore from his throat. He sounded terrified, desperate, exactly how he felt, but the thought of quieting himself was inconceivable. It was a reflex, something beyond control.

There was a squeak of bedsprings from across the room and a voice sounded through the darkness.

"Vince?"

Vince couldn't respond, choking on emotion as he tried to wipe the tears away and keep himself in check, startled by the sudden interaction. The squeaking increased and then died out, telling Vince that Howard had left his bed. Panicked, he drew his knees up and buried his face from sight, unwilling to communicate. There was a pressure on the edge of the bed as Howard seated himself.

"Vince? _Vince_!"

He couldn't explain himself without recounting the dream and- in the process- revealing his recent discovery. He managed to stifle his sobs, but his breathing was still shaky and his throat was too tight to speak.

"Vince, look at me."

Vince did so, raising his head, half-fearful of what would happen next. He could see Howard's face through the gloom, but all around them was darkness and suddenly he struggled to draw breath, his mind pasting images of the dream over reality.

Blinking to clear his vision and failing miserably, he managed to choke out a request.

"Turn the light on."

"Calm down for a second. What's going on?"

"Turn it _on_!"

Howard reached to Vince's bedside table and light suddenly flooded the room. The ball of panic in Vince's chest eased slightly, but it only gave way for a surge of desperation to flood him as he took in Howard's expression. Before he could think, he was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around the older man.

"Howard, thank God!"

"What-?"

"Promise me," Vince blurted, jumbled but certain of what he needed. "Promise me you'll never do it again. You can't kill yourself. You- you need to be alive. Please."

His voice cracked as he spoke, but he refused to cry again, fighting to keep his breathing level.

"Vince, you just had a nightmare. Relax."

"Promise me!"

"I do! I promise!"

Howard disentangled himself from Vince's tight embrace, but Vince kept a hand on Howard's arm. He was solid, warm, real and reassuring. Very slowly, he began to get a hold over his thoughts, shame creeping in as he realised how irrationally he was behaving.

There was a soft knock at the door and Howard called for whoever it was to come in. Bollo poked his head around the door.

"Naboo want to know if everything alright?"

"Tell him it's fine."

Bollo nodded and left. Vince remained quiet during the silence that followed, searching for a way to excuse his behaviour. It was Howard that spoke first.

"I should have woken you up before. I'm sorry."

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while. You were screaming for ages, but I knew this would happen when you woke up and I wanted to put it off. I don't know what to do."

The complete honesty surprised Vince and for a moment, his expression was unguarded. But he knew his face and all the emotion it could convey and so he caught himself quickly, turning away to hide his eyes until he could arrange himself into something that resembled composure.

"There's nothing you can do. Everything's fine now. Go back to bed."

He was surprised by the cool detachment in his voice, but more than a little satisfied. It soon dissolved into guilt, however, at the hurt that showed so plainly in Howard's eyes.

"If you're sure..." Howard said uncertainly, wrong-footed. "You know where I am if you need anything."

It took less than a second for Vince to crumble, catching the older man's arm as he stood and then relinquishing the contact before it could matter. He didn't know what to do; how was he supposed to convey to Howard all that he felt? There weren't enough words in his vocabulary. Rarely-used sentiments sprang forward from the dusty corners of his mind, but none of them were right. None of them sounded sincere. None of them sounded like Vince.

"I..." he faltered. What did he _want_ to say? He had seen scenes like this a million times on a million different television shows, but they were scripted- every word was planned in advance. In real life, real people like him couldn't talk like that, couldn't condense whole feelings into one sentence. Resigned, he shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he muttered bitterly.

Howard turned, switched off the lamp and moved away, engulfed in the darkness. Vince heard him climb into bed, arrange himself into a comfortable position and sigh. Then there was nothing- nothing but a steady breathing and a faint ticking from the clock in the front room.

Sleep was out of the question now, for Vince, which left him time to think. It had been an eventful day, one which began with an attempt at normality and ended with normality being twisted from his grasp for good. After his conversation with Naboo, Vince had gone straight to bed, unable to face this new revelation without thinking it through. He had found himself drained, though, and fallen asleep instead, welcoming the break from reality. It seemed that he was now faced with a long stretch of alone time, almost as though fate was determined that he would consider his next move.

Whenever Vince had imagined being in love, he had thought of it as a warm, fuzzy feeling, as though someone had wrapped his heart in a blanket and claimed it, like a stray animal. The image made him smile although the notion of he, Vince Noir, being in love had always seemed laughable. He usually envisioned a woman, with beautiful dark hair and a bright smile. She always smelled of flowers and she dressed in all the right clothes- not because everyone else did too, but because it made her happy. They enjoyed the same bands, went to gigs together, danced together, went to clubs together. She couldn't cook, but it didn't matter because he didn't have a taste for home-cooked meals and neither did she. They had plans to have children, of course, and raise them on Gary Newman and sweets. Keeping them fit didn't matter, because they would have Vince's metabolism and her natural aptitude for athletics. They would have a perfect life together.

But 'she' no longer existed in Vince's mind. His fantasies mutated, disjointed images forcing their way to the front of his muddled thoughts: Howard, pushing a child with black hair on a swing; Vince, leading a child with a bushy brown moustache to the gates of a local school; Howard, in blue skinny jeans and a black Nickelback t-shirt; Vince, in a tweed jacket and corduroys; both of them in suits, side-by-side at the altar; Vince's record collection, with jazz scattered in between each vinyl; his CD collection, littered with funk.

Vince closed his eyes, steadying his breathing and willing his mind into silence. Then he made a snap decision.

He couldn't think about this now, not when he was so unsure of what he wanted. He wanted to quieten his brain, dim the noise, find some peace of mind for a few precious minutes. So, quietly, he rolled out of bed and slipped from the room, listening at Naboo's door. All was silent so he crept inside. The shaman was fast asleep on the bed, the bulk of Bollo snoring softly on the floor next to him.

Hardly daring to breathe, Vince tiptoed to the corner, knowing exactly where to find what he was looking for. He had done this before, on a few rare occasions, for Leroy. Except now it was himself that he was stealing for and he felt dirty and underhanded as he crouched down to the bottom shelf of a unit against the wall. After fumbling along the back, he was rewarded with a small black box- the kind that usually held jewellery. He opened it cautiously, peering inside. There was just enough light coming from a glowing blue bottle overhead to see the box's precious cargo.

Where there should have been a cushion, or something else to secure the contents in place, there sat a pile of green leaves. Vince felt inside, noting that some were sticky beneath his fingers and clumped together as he probed, and others were dry and frail to the touch. He pinched a clump between his thumb and forefinger and closed the box gently, placing it back on the shelf and straightening, before leaving the room hurriedly with a lot less care.

* * *

**Yes, Vince is going to do drugs. Sorry! It's just the once, to tie up a part of the plot later on. Maybe twice. Dunno.**

**Uh, review replies:**

**Guest- So glad you're enjoying! Thank you for the review, I hope this chapter lives up to expectations :D.**

**thitaingeal- I'm going to reply in two parts- first, the review for Letting Go... Well, that was a lovely surprise really, because the story's been finished for months and I didn't expect another reviewer! Thank you so much for your kind words :D. I was having a crappy day and your comments just made me glow, so thanks :D. Oh, I LOVE The IT Crowd, it's so good it's unbelievable! I fell in love with ol' Noel in much the same way actually, although it was through Luxury Comedy... Love that show. I saw it by accident, the channel was just on, and something kind of clicked in my head like 'yes, this is what I'm missing from my life!' xD. And Jesus Christ, Sherlock! I might be a bit in love with you actually, sorry about that :L. I completely understand why you'd want to be English- best country in the world, don't'cha know? We have all the best actors ^.^ :P. And YES, YES, I will give you a Sherlock/Boosh crossover! But I have a lot on, so it might have to wait a little bit :P.**

**And your review from this fic- Thank you again :D. I think you've understood what I was aiming for in this sequel, I basically just wanted to flesh out their relationship a bit, maybe add a bit of 'romance', although along the way I have lost much of the comedy, which I'm rather regretful about :/. And yet again, thank you :D. Your kindness honours me, sir! ...Or madam xD. And finally, it's cool, be as long-winded as you like... Clealy I myself am rather long-winded, so it's always nice to meet a kindred spirit :D.**

**As always, I'm incredibly grateful for any feedback, favourites and alerts- thanks guys :D.**

**Soooooo... on to business. I have put Luxury Boosh on an official hiatus, the reason being that I want to focus on another story (possibly two) and I simply don't have the willpower to write three (or four) at a time. Once I'm done with this one, I'll probably return to it- perhaps sooner- but for now it's on hold. My sincerest apologies :(.**

**Which brings me to my next point- my next story. Well, I have two ideas, and I wish to put both in motion, but whether I do one at a time or both, I don't know. The first one is, plain and simple, the bits they don't show on screen. It begins with how they met and moves on to tell the story of the move from the Zooniverse, how Naboo set up the Nabootique, right through to what happened after 'The Chokes'. It also includes in-between episode bits that sort of tie up the ends the real 'Boosh left loose and- as an added bonus- explains why the events of 'Bollo' took place and how he returned to life. And yes, I did just sound a bit like I was trying to sell you that idea. I was. That's 35 Euros, please.**

**Aaaaaand... the other idea shall remain a secret, 'cause I think it's a good concept that needs to remain a surprise... :D.**

**Okay, I'll let you go now... But don't forget to review before you leave!**


	6. Chapter 6

**'Lo people! This chapter is largely a filler, but it's neccessary in the sense that it bridges the gap in between the previous chapter and the next. As do most chapters, in fact xD. If you so wish, you can skip this one.**

**Quite probably not my best work. This is all I can say.**

**Enjoy?**

* * *

Vince had realised belatedly that he would have to make a trip to the shop, not having the necessaries to follow through with his plan, so he wrapped the leaves in tinfoil and hid the package in a drawer amongst takeaway menus and stray batteries as he went to get dressed. He caught sight of the time as he did so, realising that it was three o'clock in the morning and feeling relieved that there was an all-night garage three streets away.

He snuck into his bedroom and removed some clothes from the wardrobe by the light from the open door, then exited to get changed in the bathroom. When he was decent in tight-fitting jeans that seemed suddenly too big and a bespangled shirt that hung from his frame, he slid on his favourite boots and retrieved the tinfoil, shoving it deep inside his pocket along with a five Euro note.

The walk to the garage was short- Vince moved quickly, all-too aware of the bulk against his leg. He was relieved to step under the canopy of the forecourt and even more glad to enter the shop attached to it. The man behind the counter was tall and sleepy-looking, chewing gum lazily and observing Vince through half-closed eyes. For some reason, Vince's heart was hammering.

"Alright, mate?" he called brightly, wearing Old Vince's smile as he crossed to the counter. Without missing a beat, he eyed behind the counter, zeroed in on a brand and slid the note onto the counter. "Ten Sterlings, your cheapest lighter and a packet of Rizlas, please."

The tinfoil seemed to burn in his pocket as the man took an age to turn and gather these three simple items. It took longer yet to receive change, but Vince took it with a genuine smile and hoped his relief wasn't too visible.

"Cheers. Have a good night, yeah?"

With that, he strode from the garage, not stopping until he had reached the corner. Then he tucked the lighter, cigarettes and papers into his pockets and set off, already knowing where he was going to go.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at the park he had frequented as a teenager. He still came here sometimes, after chucking-out time in the clubs and when there was nowhere else to go. For some reason, his crowd thought it was a good spot, although Vince failed to see the appeal- yet another reminder that he was getting older, he supposed.

He trod across the grass field and easily climbed the gate into the children's play area. After looking around uncertainly, he picked his spot and climbed a short metal ladder leading to one of the huts that were connected by various obstacles and bridges. From here, he crossed one of said bridges, leading to the tallest hut, completely isolated by three walls that fenced him in and made him feel safe. Then, he threw the contents of his pockets to the floor and sat beside them, cross-legged, facing the only entrance to his hiding place.

The park was well-lit, even at this time of night, and the roof over his head was designed with gaps that allowed the light to filter through, meaning he would be able to see perfectly. Nerves fluttered in his stomach. Curiosity had led him to persuade Leroy to teach him how to do this, although he had actually smoked it only once or twice, and never more than a few drags.

With shaking hands, Vince opened the Rizlas, tearing away the first paper, which was packaging, and then helping himself to two more, which he positioned and then stuck together with a third. Next, he opened the cigarettes, snapping one at the filter and then tearing the white paper to free the tobacco, which he arranged on the papers. Finally, he unwrapped the tinfoil. He had taken enough just for this, so he picked the clump apart and arranged it all on top of the tobacco.

Now came the difficult part. Vince picked it all up carefully and began to roll the paper around its contents, creating a cone shape. Satisfied, he held it in place and licked the sticky side of the Rizlas, running his finger along to fasten it down. To finish, he ripped some cardboard from the Rizla packet to roach the smaller end, then used the discarded cigarette filter to push down the tobacco in the larger end so he could close it off.

For a moment, Vince inspected his handiwork, mildly proud. His dexterity when playing instruments extended into other activities- even this, it seemed. His rolling wasn't half bad, really, he thought, almost cheerful again. It was pleasant to be reminded that he wasn't totally useless.

The happiness dissipated quickly, however, when he raised the joint to his lips and wondered what Howard would say. Of all the illegal drugs Vince had heard of, cannabis was one of the least dangerous. Naboo and Bollo smoked it all the time, and the older man was fine with it. But, he supposed, this was he, Vince, doing it, and somehow that would make all the difference.

It wasn't highly addictive, he thought defensively. Not nearly as bad as they made it out to be in school. The sensation was addictive, smoking in itself was addictive, but he wasn't sure that the drug was particularly addictive. Perhaps not in a physical sense, at least, and if it was, it would surely be an addiction that was easily broken? One spliff wouldn't have him hooked, he knew that much. He knew numerous people who smoked it occasionally, who enjoyed it from time to time without craving it.

Yes, it would be alright. Just this once.

With mixed feelings of anticipation, excitement and guilt, Vince lit up.

The first drag was fine, although the second made him cough and splutter. The third tickled and made his eyes water. The fourth he inhaled too deeply and it sent him choking again. But by the fifth, he felt only minor discomfort as he smoked.

Halfway down the joint, the effect started to kick in, and Vince could feel himself relaxing, slouching back, sprawling into a more comfortable position. He was even starting to enjoy the taste now- a pleasant, sharp tang in the back of his throat. His head was swirling, his eyes were aching and felt swollen, but he felt at peace for the first time in a long time. A sense of calm had fallen over him, dulling his thoughts, lifting his spirits. A smile tugged the the corners of his mouth and all of a sudden he was grinning, although he didn't know why.

Nothing seemed to matter now, as he sat there, smoking, feeling almost normal. This had been how Old Vince felt- happy, ready to laugh at any moment with barely any provocation. He was perhaps a little less relaxed, but New Vince was enjoying the sensation of relaxing very much. He was no longer on edge. It didn't matter that he was in love with his best friend, it didn't matter that he hadn't eaten in such a long time, it didn't even matter that there would be hell to pay in the morning, when Naboo realised he had dipped into his stash. Vince had been lost, but now he was back; ugly, mutated and drug-addled, but solid and real, no longer caught in between the person he used to be and the person he must become.

He flicked the end of the joint over the side of the hut and onto the tarmac below. For a moment he was still, but then he became all-too aware of the packet of cigarettes that sat beside him. He had always been curious, but been too afraid to try, not wanting to be hooked. Tonight though, he felt daring, and so he took a cigarette and lit it.

The taste was foul and the smoke was somehow harsher than that of the joint, but Vince found himself thoroughly comforted by the repetitive motion and so he didn't throw it away. As he smoked, he considered himself, all the things that frightened him, all the things he was helpless against. Now that it was lifted, he realised he had been carrying a weight around, something buried deep inside his chest, a dreadful feeling that all was wrong with the world- with _him_. But now he felt light and liberated, free from his ever-present worries.

When he came down, he didn't know what he would do. But for now, he didn't care.

As he flicked the cigarette butt over the edge of the hut, he sighed, content. A small, self-congratulatory smile crept into place. He could live like this, feeling free of everything that had ailed him. It was there, of course- it wouldn't simply vanish- but it was manageable. And from here, perhaps, there might just be a way to cure himself.

* * *

**So... yeah.**

**Well, I've already replied to my fabulous reviewer (you know who you are :)) so I've not got much to say really.**

**Oh, except that I don't know when the next chapter will be because I haven't written it yet and I have no idea if it will be forthcoming soon or not. Put quite simply, I'm a bit of a shambles at the moment- I've moved into a flat with an over-controlling chap who's currently not paying his half of the rent (who shall not be named), there's currently no furniture, I don't even have a bed, all my notebooks have gone missing in the move which is a massive blow (I fucking love my notebooks, 's'cuse the language) and I'm in the middle of a minor breakdown (spent the last week crashing on my dad's sofa, hiding from my problems, smoking heavily and generally being a nusiance :L). Not to mention the fact that I haven't returned to my college since Christmas because I'm getting all panicky over my future and the complete lack of direction in my life. Oh, and I'm having a slight identity crisis 'cause I've gone all weird and un-me-like since I've moved. To put it simply, I'm a tad lost at the moment.**

**I'll bounce back though. All is not lost. Although I've had two litres of energy drink every day this week and I haven't stopped shaking all day :L. My hands are going mental xD.**

**So... I'm going to go now I've unloaded my current list of worries into an inappropriate place. When will I learn? This is fanfiction, not a blog. Come on...**

**Review, 'cause I'm feeling a bit crazy? :L.**


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